Sidelines
by Jaiaelle
Summary: Quinn has often sat on the sidelines of life. So has Artie. Quinn/Artie
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: I have neglected all my WIP fics because of many things, of which this story is one. Here it is, my OTP written out as I would like to see it happen. Please, Ryan Murphy, see the potential that exists between these two and place them together. They are meant to be. Please, read and review. :)_

_I'd like to dedicate this to Carli, who loves this pairing as much as I do...plus, she has a great perspective on Artie and that perspective inspired much of who Artie is in this._

**_Sidelines, Part One_**

If Quinn Fabray had been in charge of everything, as she often wanted to be at eight years old, her father wouldn't have gotten that promotion and been transferred from Dayton to the little hodink town of Lima. But she wasn't in charge of everything, so, in the middle of her second grade year, she was uprooted from a school where all of her classmates loved her to one where nobody knew her. Or wanted to, it seemed.

Her mother assured that, eventually, she would make friends. "People are just drawn to you," her mother said, while stirring the beef stew after Quinn's third day at the new school. "It hasn't been that long. Just wait and see."

In her little eight year old world, waiting and seeing seemed to take forever. But, really, it was only one week later. One week, to the day, when a little boy cautiously approached and sat across from her at the end of one of the long lunch tables in the cafeteria. She knew he was there but it took her awhile to get the courage to lift her eyes. When their eyes met, he blushed a little and held tighter to the brown bag he carried. She had seen him before, in P.E., the only time, besides assemblies, when the second graders all came together. Biting down on her bottom lip, she contemplated what she might say to him but he spoke before she could.

"Hi," he squeaked, finally releasing the brown bag to adjust the black rimmed glasses on his face. "I'm Artie."

A small smile touched her lips. "I'm Quinn," she told him, lightly poking the steaming mass of meat and gravy on the tray in front of her.

Unsure of what to say next, the boy frowned then directed his gaze to her meal. "Oh, yeah, the lunches here are gross. Really gross." Pausing, he dumped the contents of his lunch on the table. "You can share mine. Do you like ham?"

Nodding, she accepted half of the ham sandwich he offered, pushing the plastic tray aside. "Um, thanks."

"Sure. You can have some of my apples too." He indicated the plastic bag of apples that had fallen out beside a pudding cup. Chocolate pudding. Quinn would've really enjoyed _that _but wasn't about to ask him for it. That might be rude. "Do you like the school?"

Tilting her head, Quinn chewed the sandwich thoughtfully for moment, swallowed, then told him, "It's okay. I miss my old school."

Nodding, Artie selected an apple slice out of the bag. "Yeah. I bet it's hard moving to a new place."

"Especially when you have no friends," she muttered, darkly, taking a savage bite of the sandwich.

Wide eyes surveyed her for a second before, very somberly, Artie intoned, "You have one now."

The day suddenly brighter, Quinn grinned. The rest of the lunch period passed by pleasantly, with the two children alternately chatting and eating. Near the end of the period, Artie insisted she take the pudding cup and it was then that Quinn finally felt that, maybe, she could belong in Lima.

The worst part of the day was when the second grade classes congregated together for P.E. Most of the time, they played group games, the teacher often selecting the same two people to be captains for the opposing teams.

"Finn Hudson and Santana Lopez," Mr. French called out, nine out of ten times, pointing to the two and directing them away from the group. And nine out of ten times there was an uneven number of students so Quinn would just sit on the sidelines, watching everyone else play softball or dodge ball. She couldn't necessarily complain about being left out but she also had to admit that it hurt, to be looked over so often. On the day that they started the bowling unit, Quinn was left out again, which made no sense. Bowling wasn't really a team sport but she still was ordered to wait until later to play. Possibly later. Possibly to play. Artie frowned and gazed sympathetically at her, which didn't help the matter. Stomping her feet, Quinn walked to the wall of the gymnasium and leaned against it.

For a few minutes, she watched them bowl, a feeling of pride rising in her as it became obvious, fairly soon, that Artie was the best of the bowlers. Her friend. Her only friend. The two of them didn't fraternize outside of school but they sat next to each other on the swings at recess and he gave her his pudding cup every day at lunch. Sighing, she watched as Santana and Brittany hugged after one had knocked down all the pins with the rubber bowling ball. Feeling sad, she remembered Dianna, her best friend from Dayton. Sniffling a little, she inched along the wall until she came to door. Neither Mr. French nor his assistant, Mrs. Kelly, were paying attention so, with one last glance over her shoulder, she snuck out of the building into the crisp February air.

Holding back tears had become second nature, as her father told both her and her older sister that only the weak cried and Fabray's weren't weak, so keeping her tears at bay wasn't that hard, as she wandered across the elementary school campus. Near her classroom was an old weeping willow and that was where she ended her trek, shivering, since it was pretty cold, underneath's it's sheltering branches.

"Quinn?"

Spinning around, she spotted Artie, making his way across the blacktop, coming her way. Smiling weakly, she waved at him.

"Why did you leave?" he questioned, once he was only a few feet from her.

Kicking her shoe against the muddy ground, Quinn shrugged. "Did anyone even know I left?"

Crossing his arms over his chest, presumably to ward of the chill of the air, Artie slowly shook his head. "Probably not."

Snorting, Quinn reclined into the tree, her back pressing into the gnarled bark. "Of course they didn't."

Stepping forward, Artie held out a hand, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder. "They're just dumb, Quinn. They're missing out on knowing you and you're pretty cool."

Shifting on her feet, Quinn let Artie's words sift through her brain until she realized something. "You knew I left."

"Well…yeah." Wrinkling his brow, he continued, "Of course I did."

Grinning, Quinn leaned forward and softly pressed her lips to his, surprising both of them. At the same time they pulled back, blushing. "Thanks for coming after me."

"Uh, your w-welcome," he stammered, nudging his glasses up his nose with his thumb.

Hooking her arm through his, she started away from the tree. "We should get back, right?"

Nodding several times, Artie let her take the lead and the two returned to the gym, where, indeed, no one had even noticed their absence.

Five weeks after she had moved to Lima, Santana Lopez asked Quinn to eat lunch with her and Brittany. Delighted, Quinn had composed herself just enough to let out a cool, "Sure."

At lunch, the two girls talked about their favorite Barbie's, a conversation Quinn was able to join in. She was slightly distracted, however, when her eyes found Artie, seated by himself at their regular table, munching on apple slices. Their eyes met and she waved. He half grinned and waved back before he went back to eating, his eyes drifting away from her.

Suppressing the sadness in her chest, Quinn focused back on the girls she was eating with and the unidentifiable food on her tray. She noticed that both Santana and Brittany had pudding cups in their lunches but neither shared with her.

After spending a few months in Lima, Quinn decided it wasn't so bad. She had her new best friends, Santana and Brittany, and summer had just started, which meant no more school and lots of time swimming in the big pool in her backyard. She occasionally talked with Artie at school but it wasn't the same as it had been and with the summer beginning, it was pretty much guaranteed that two wouldn't have any contact for two and a half months.

The kiss was never brought up but Quinn had a feeling it was something she wouldn't forget, being her first one and all. She almost told her mom about it, wanting to ask her mom how she could tell if she liked a boy but decided against it, especially since Santana didn't like Artie, calling him names like 'dork' and 'loser .' Quinn had almost protested but held her tongue, fearing she might lose her new found friends.

The first Monday of summer break, Quinn awoke, jumped out of bed and rummaged through her drawers, looking for the purple bathing suit her mom had recently bought her. The only thing on her mind was swimming with Santana and Brittany but that changed when her mom entered her room, a frown on her face.

"What's wrong, Mom?" she asked, as she pulled a yellow tank top over the suit.

"Your father just called to tell me there was an accident in town. That boy you said you sometimes ate lunch with, he was in it. Him and his mom."

Frozen, Quinn absorbed what her mom had just said, the words rolling over her in waves. "Artie?" Please no, her mind screamed. No, God, not Artie.

A short nod and open arms were Mrs. Fabray's way of responding.

Try as she may to hold them back, the tears came. She couldn't stop them and, this time, she didn't care.

After two weeks, Quinn was finally allowed to see him. As soon as she entered the room, the lump in her throat grew. He looked so small, so broken. Her eyes swept from his face to his legs as she recalled her mom telling her that he would never be able to walk again. Mrs. Abrams came in behind her, quiet, as the small girl took tentative steps to the bed, stopping next to the side. She placed the item she had been carrying on the bedside table then, without really thinking about it, took his hand in hers. At the contact, he stirred, his eyes slowly opening. Quinn didn't notice Mrs. Abrams slip out of the room.

"Qu-quinn?" Artie murmured, blinking several times.

"Hi, Artie," she whispered, afraid to speak louder and disturb the stillness of the room.

"Oh," he said, chuckling a bit. "I thought you were an angel."

Giggling, Quinn shook her head. "No, it's just me."

"Close enough," he teased, his hand squeezing hers.

Giddy, that he was okay and acting like himself, she pointed, using her free hand, toward the item on the table. "I brought you something."

"A pudding cup! Thanks Quinn!"

Smiling even more, Quinn sat on the edge of the bed. "Next year, I'll sit with you at lunch sometimes. Maybe Santana and Brittany will too. Then you can take turns sharing your pudding cups with us."

If his smile drooped a little, it wasn't evident to Quinn. "Okay."

The next few minutes passed by too quickly and soon, Mrs. Abrams had reentered again, telling Quinn she would have to come back again another time. Artie needed his rest.

Releasing his hand, Quinn got up from the bed, promising to visit again. It was a promise she kept, visiting Artie at least three times a week while he was in the hospital and, when he returned home, much more often.

But then school started again. And when the kids saw Artie in his wheelchair, unsure of how to behave around him, they made fun of him. They pushed his chair when the teacher's weren't looking. Santana always laughed when the others were mean to him but what Quinn did was worse.

She did nothing.

She didn't eat lunch with Artie that year or the next or the next or the next.

But sometimes, as she sat with Santana and Brittany and an ever growing gaggle of girls and boys, she would glance across the cafeteria at Artie, eating all by himself or, sometimes, with that weird Asian girl Tina Cohen-Chang, and miss his pudding cups. And probably miss him just a bit too.

In the middle of football season, seventh grade year, Quinn sprained her ankle. The moment it happened, quite a few curses flew out of her mouth, shocking her fellow cheerleaders who had never heard her use such a language and were probably not aware that she knew such language. Living with her dad, she hadn't been able to avoid garnering such a vocabulary. Santana and Brittany had helped her off the field, Santana quietly commending Quinn on the string of words that had just fled her mouth. Ignoring her friend, Quinn had let them ease her onto a bench, where she had propped her ankle up as they went to get some ice.

Her eyes wandered across the field to the boys on the junior football team, tackling each other and running plays. As was usual, her eyes were drawn most often to Finn Hudson, the tallest boy not just in the seventh grade but in the whole junior high. There was something about him and one of these days, she vowed to find out what that something was.

She was so lost in her thoughts regarding Finn that she wasn't cognizant of the presence of another boy until his voice sounded out from beside the bench. "Sucks sitting on the sidelines, huh?"

Jumping a little, Quinn twisted her head, swallowing as Artie came into her line of vision. It was a struggle to remember the last time she had heard him speak. It had been a long time; his voice had changed since then. "Ah-artie," she stumbled, not sure why a feeling of insecurity came over her by being in his presence. Or maybe it was guilt? "Um, yeah, it does." She wanted to show some sort of empathy, since he spent his life on the sidelines, not able to play sports at all anymore, but instead she asked, "What are you still doing at school?"

Twiddling his hands in his lap, Artie kept his eyes firmly locked on hers, which made her want to squirm. "Band practice. Heard on the way out, you got hurt." Red colored his cheeks. "You seem okay."

"I am. My ankle. Maybe a sprain?" Once, when they had been eating lunch together all those years ago, Artie had expressed an interest in a certain instrument. She wondered if that's the one he had ended up picking to play. "So, band. The guitar?"

The corner of one side of his mouth curled up in a half grin. "Yeah, I play the guitar. You remember me talking about that?"

Rubbing her lips together, to keep her own smile from appearing, Quinn nodded her head. "Yes, I remember."

Amusement danced in his blue-green eyes. "I remember things too." Licking his lips, he spun his chair so that he was sort of facing her. "I remember that you used to like to sing. You had a pretty voice. I bet you still do. You could join-"

"Artie, stop." She held up one hand, as if to emphasize her point. "Singing was just something stupid I used to think about. Cheerleaders can't be singers."

Confused, Artie scrunched his brow. "Why can't they? Why couldn't you do both?"

Apparently, there were some things that Artie just didn't get but before she could explain anything to him, Santana and Brittany were back, the former narrowing her eyes at the wheelchair bound boy. "Are you lost, Wheels?"

When Quinn chose to remain silent, Artie, turning his eyes toward Santana, said, "Yup. I'm lost. This isn't the band room?"

"No!" exclaimed Brittany, eyes wide. "The band room is in, like, a room. We're sort of outside. See," the tall girl went on, pointing to the grass.

Squinting his eyes, since he wasn't used to Brittany-isms, as Quinn and Santana sometimes referred to them, Artie nodded. "Ah, yes, grass. Thanks Brittany."

Beaming, Brittany bounced on her toes. "Anytime, Wheels." As the boy rolled away, Brittany whispered, "Wheels is a weird name."

Ignoring her friend, Santana placed one hand on her hip and handed Quinn the ice pack with the other. "What's that about?"

"Oh…Artie?" She carefully placed the bag of ice on her ankle while just as carefully avoiding eye contact with Santana. "He heard about my accident and he came to see if I was alright."

One slim eyebrow raised but Brittany, ever the ray of sunshine, burst out, almost in song, "He likes you! I bet he likes you! Do you think he might like her, Santanny?"

Rolling her eyes at the stupid nickname that Brittany sometimes called her, Santana crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm thinking that maybe he does but maybe he's not the only one with any _feelings_."

Paying attention to the ice on her ankle, Quinn pretended she didn't know what Santana might mean because that was simply ridiculous.

"I have feelings," said Brittany, twirling her hair around her finger. "Are you talking about me? Like the way I feel when I see a butterfly. They're really pretty." Brittany's head went up and down solemnly as she declared her feelings for the winged insects.

Clenching her jaw in annoyance, though Quinn knew that Santana adored her friend, Santana said, "Oh, yes, butterflies. That's what I was talking about. C'mon," she continued. "We need to get back to practice."

"Bye Quinnalin!"

Quinn wasn't sure where that nickname had come from but it always made Quinn smile. Even after Santana had caught her talking to Artie. Not that it mattered. Why would should she care? It wasn't like Santana or anyone could dictate who and who she didn't talk to. If she wanted to talk to Artie Abrams, who would stop her? Hunching her back, Quinn knew that only one stopping her was herself. The two of them had just grown apart, had grown up. Biting her lip, Quinn thought about all the time she had spent with Artie that summer, helping him with physical therapy and learning to use the chair, and knew she was justifying what had happened between the two of them. Heaving a sigh, Quinn contemplated hobbling after Artie, maybe righting things with him, starting their friendship over. Just as she was about to, a shadow loomed over her and she found Finn's warm brown eyes smiling down on her.

"Hey Quinn. I saw you fall. Poor ankle." He frowned as his eyes passed over her injury. "Is it going to be okay?"

Maintaining a calm she didn't feel, she nodded. "I'm sure it will be."

"Cool." Flashing her a grin, he jogged off, catching up with his other football buddies.

Giddy, Quinn sat a bit dazed, Artie pushed to the back of her mind. But still there, nonetheless. Always there.

Due to Quinn's sprained ankle, she sat out for half of the season, which wasn't the best situation but Quinn pretended she didn't mind. Except that she did. She hated sitting on the sidelines, watching the proud parents in the stands point to their cheering daughters while her parents opted to stay home, since she wouldn't be cheering anyway. At the last game, before she could resume cheering, Quinn's frustration was at an all time high. Mostly because of the way Finn kept grinning at the cheerleaders who _were _cheering.

At half time, grouchy, she limped away from the field, making her way behind the stands, on the way to the bathroom. All the band geeks, who sometimes performed before the games, hung out there and Quinn ducked her head to avoid eye contact with them. She had just passed through the midst of them when she heard her name being called. She didn't need to turn to know who it was. She debated on whether or not she should turn around at all. Later, she could always claim she hadn't heard him. Or tell him she had heard but she hadn't cared. If she did that, he would probably never talk to her again. Though that really shouldn't bother her.

Digging the nails from one hand into her palm, in act which she hoped would help her to keep her game face on in front of him, she pivoted around. "Can I help you?" she asked, icily.

If her tone hurt him, he didn't reveal it. "I just wanted to give you something. One of our old teachers gave it to me and I thought…" Pausing, he shook his head and let out a hoot of a chuckle. "Just take it." Reaching out, he shoved something into her hands before placing both hands on the rims of his wheels and rolling away.

Turning the item over, she found herself staring down at the younger faces of she and Artie, at a lunch table. In her right hand, young Quinn held a pudding cup.

Gulping down her emotion, Quinn hastily placed the photo under her cheerleading top, the glossy side cold against her stomach. When she'd got home, she'd throw the picture away.

When she got home, though, she didn't throw the picture away. She put it at the bottom of her keepsake box then kicked that under her bed.

"That new girl," Santana said, leaning over the salad she kept poking with her fork. "Is super annoying. And did you see her hands! Total man hands!"

"Ugh," Quinn replied, after taking a sip of her water. "I know. She came up to me today and asked if I'd be interested in starting a junior high glee club. What's a glee club, even?"

"Beats me," muttered San, chugging her own water.

"Is it like 'Oh, glee, I forgot to put my shoes on when I left the house this morning?'" asked Brittany, blue eyes extra round.

"That's _gee_." Santana rolled her eyes, before leaning to speak to Quinn again. "What if she's a transvestite or something? What if she's really a guy?"

Choking back laughter, Quinn found it difficult to continue eating her salad.

"We should totally tell everyone that!" Santana exclaimed, spearing a leaf of lettuce. "It would be so funny!"

Wrinkling her nose, Brittany voiced her confusion. "I don't get it…but I'll tell people that!"

When Santana didn't respond with a comment about how dumb Brittany was being, something which happened on a daily basis, Quinn lifted her eyes to find both of them staring at her expectantly. It was then that she realized that the fate of this new girl, Rachel something, was in her hands. She wasn't quite sure when the Queen Bee title had been passed to her but it had, somehow. The thought of that kind of power was a bit exhilarating, even though a small voice in her warned against it. "It would be funny," she finally said. Two seconds later, both Brittany and Santana were texting on their phones and Quinn was trying to ignore the tinge of guilt she was feeling.

Later that week, Quinn heard a girl crying in the bathroom. Ignoring the soft sniffles, Quinn applied her lip gloss, ran a comb through her hair, then left. Out of curiosity though, she waited, lingering close by, until the girl emerged, looking as if she hadn't just been shedding more than a few tears in the girl's bathroom.

It was Rachel Berry.

The other girl didn't even see Quinn as she passed by her, seemingly lost in her own world, like always. Quinn justified her actions in the spreading of rumors by reminding herself that Rachel Berry was _so_weird. That alone made it okay. So lost in _her_ own world was she that she didn't notice him until he was upon her, sitting next to her, hands folded in his lap. She didn't turn her head to look at him, keeping her gaze fully locked on the hallway wall across from them, but noting the disappointed look on his face out of the corner of her eye. "What?" she snapped when he continued to remain immobile and silent.

His eyes darted towards her then just as quickly darted away. "You know what."

Frustrated, she spun to face him, placing both her hands on her hips. "No, I don't know. Why don't you tell me?"

Stoic, he touched a wheel and came into place, head at an angle so they were looking into each other's eyes. "Why did you do it? Spread those rumors about her? That's not you, Quinn."

Swallowing hard, Quinn felt herself growing angry. How dare he act like he knew her, when he didn't, when he hadn't for years? "You don't know me!" she spat out. "And, anyway, I didn't spread those rumors!"

"Maybe not but you could stop Santana and Brittany from spreading them," he told her, eyes flint-like and unflinching.

She thought she might hate him in that moment. "I can't control them. And stop trying to be my conscience!"

"I think you can," he responded, starting to back his chair away from, a bit of sadness behind his eyes. "And I'm not trying to be your conscience, Quinn. I'm just saying what your conscience already is, what you, for some reason, aren't listening to."

Part of her wanted to screech something after him but another part of her, a part she was locking away more and more, wanted to run after him and tell him he was right. He was right about everything. And he did know her, apparently better than anyone.

Instead, she walked slowly back to class, pretending that the heaviness in her chest did not effect her in the slightest.

By the end of the year, the damage was done and Rachel Berry was the most hated girl in school. Quinn, for the most part, didn't acknowledge the other girl's existence but she did sometimes direct Santana, Brittany and even Puck in their attacks against her. Mostly, it was just dirty limericks about her on the bathroom wall or throwing balloons filled with a number of liquid substances at her as she walked to class. Quinn felt particularly bad about the pee filled ones but kept that to herself, since everyone else seemed to find it so funny. From time to time, she would fall under Artie's disapproving stare but that didn't bother her.

Not in the slightest (which is what she told herself).

Once, Santana caught Artie looking at her that way. "Oh my god!" Santana laughed, clutching her sides. "I bet he does like you!"

"Oh," chimed in Brittany. "I was right!"

Mouth flopping open, Quinn attempted to compose herself and reply calmly but before she could, Santana started to suggest, "Wouldn't it be funny if we -"

"No!" Quinn practically shouted, her voice drawing attention from the boy's table nearby. Finn gave her a funny look and she felt her cheeks coloring. "No," she repeated, quieter this time. "Just leave him alone."

Being the Queen Bee, neither questioned her decision but she could see doubt cloud Santana's brown eyes.

The other girl had just found the chink in Quinn's armor though Quinn wasn't sure she was aware of it. Squaring her shoulders, Quinn found her voice again. "Who cares about him? He doesn't matter. I was thinking, Kurt Hummel has gotten too comfortable lately…"

Planning and scheming would divert them for awhile and, hopefully, Artie would never be brought up again.

Someone had told Karen Grant, who had told Georgina Ryers, who had told Brittany, who had told Santana, who had told Quinn, that Finn Hudson was probably, most likely going to ask Quinn to the dance. When Santana told her the news, inside she was squealing but on the outside, only one corner of her mouth lifted in an almost sardonic smile. "Whatever. Who cares?"

"You do!" said Santana, incredulously. "You've liked him since the beginning of the year. Don't try to pretend that's changed."

Quinn shrugged then walked away, her footsteps matching the pounding of her heart.

Finn Hudson was going to ask her to the dance!

Finn Hudson did not ask her to the dance and she ended up going with Brittany and Santana, all three wearing pink dresses of different styles and shades. Rachel Berry had the gall to show up but when someone "accidentally" ripped her obviously new knee length blue dress so that there was slit to her stomach, she ran out of the decorated gymnasium, tears flowing, while Puck, the perpetrator, and all the popular kids, Quinn included, laughed.

His eyes hot on her almost made her laughter die on her lips but just to spite him, she laughed extra hard. And why had he come? He couldn't even dance. Sobered, she headed toward the punch bowl, gulping back a glass of the stuff. But that couldn't erase the image of Artie in his chair, unable to dance, unable to bowl. He had been the best bowler in the second grade…

Those thoughts were stowed away when Eric Goldman, an eighth grader, asked her to dance.

She spent the rest of the night dancing with cute popular boys and sometimes with Brittany or Santana but Finn had kept his distance and Quinn was growing impatient. Just when she had decided to ask him herself, she spotted him swaying to a slow song - with Santana! Her supposed friend's eyes touched hers and she saw the malice there. Taken aback, literally, Quinn stumbled then high tailed it outside, into the balmy and warm June night air.

It didn't matter, she kept repeating in her head. But somehow she knew that it did. That a friend wasn't supposed to do that to another friend. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the outside wall of the gym, the cool stone against her bare arms making her shiver.

"Cold?"

Her eyes flew open to find Karofsky, that Neanderthal from the hockey team, hovering over her.

"I'm fine," she intoned. "Just wanted to be alone."

Apparently, he didn't get the hint because he moved closer. "You're pretty hot," he murmured, one had stretching out to barely graze the skin of her upper arm.

Narrowing her eyes, Quinn shot back, "Alone. It means by myself. You, away. Got it?"

Something glinted in his eye and he stepped even closer. "I don't want to be away. Didn't you hear me? I think you're hot."

"And I think you're not," she told him, rolling her eyes.

In a move that was fast and startling, he had grabbed a hold of her waist and was drawing her to him. She might've cried out if she hadn't been in shock. She couldn't quite figure out what was happening.

"Quinn!"

At the sound of someone calling her name, Karofsky released his hold on her, sneering when he saw Artie sitting there, a peaceful expression on his face.

"Your mom's here," Artie informed her. "She's inside looking for you."

If it had just been Artie, Karofsky surely would've found a way to finish whatever he had started but Quinn's mom was another story.

"See ya," was all he said, before racing back into the gym.

Focusing on her savior was difficult as it was all of a sudden hard to focus at all. "My m-mom?" she stuttered, trying to move her feet but discovering they were stuck in place.

"Nope." Wheeling towards her, his eyes roved her, not with lust but with concern. "I had a feeling that would get him out of here. Are you okay?" His fingers, callused from playing the guitar, rested lightly on her wrist.

"Um, yes. I think so." Shaking herself mentally out of her stupor, she twisted her wrist so that his fingers could feel her pulse then slid her hand up so that they were holding hands. "Thank you, Artie."

He shrugged as if what he just done hadn't been a big deal but it had. It had and what had made it even more of a big deal was that it was him.

Bending at the waist, she brushed her lips against his cheek. "No, Artie. Thank you. Just accept it."

He nodded a couple of times but still didn't speak.

Sighing, Quinn straightened. "I'll see you inside."

She didn't, though, because he never came back in. She was about to go outside and what had become of him when Finn finally asked her to dance and all thoughts of Artie were almost swept away. But not completely.

Eight grade passed by in a blur and it seemed soon, much too soon, high school was starting. Walking through the double doors into the high school hallway for the first time felt like leaving childhood behind. It was a good feeling. Santana and Brittany trailed behind her, holding hands and defying the older kids to mess with them.

No one would mess with them though, Quinn was sure. They were the only freshman who had made it onto the JV team. The elite Cheerios, coached by Sue Sylvester, whose reputation had preceded her. Though none of them dared to admit it, the tall older lady scared them, enough that they planned on doing anything within their power to stay on her good side, which mostly meant being good enough to help propel the Cheerios toward National's. It also meant that anything they might be interested in, other than cheerleading, needed to be cast aside. Quinn tried not to think about singing and that ridiculous club that Rachel Berry was in.

When she saw Artie, passed him in the halls, it was hard not to think about it though.

Quinn was Queen of the high school scene by the beginning of sophomore year. Head Cheerio for the Varsity team, something which had happened only once in McKinley High history, President of the Celibacy club, which allowed membership to all but had only been joined by the popular crowd (except for the super creepy and disgusting Jacob Ben Israel) and dating the most popular guy in high school, the quarterback for the Varsity football team. Yes, she had finally gotten her Finn Hudson, though dating him was not what she expected. Especially after he joined glee club and she was relegated to second class citizen status. It was all about glee and Rachel Berry.

It seemed that Finn was bent on toppling the order she had created.

One day in particular, she was upset because Finn had bailed on her to rehearse with Rachel for the glee club. He had babbled on about it for several minutes before coming to the point. He wanted to cancel their study date for that afternoon. Slamming her locker shut, she had informed him that that was unacceptable but he hadn't listened, telling her he would study with her the following afternoon. Growling, she had watched him hurry off, away from her to Rachel's waiting embrace. Huffing, she marched down the hall to the double doors that lead out of the school. She placed her hand on the cold surface, intending to push it and leave the school behind for the day. But it was as if all the energy had drained from her body and she stood there, lifeless.

She blinked and in that moment, a hand appeared next to hers. "Need help?"

Withdrawing her hand, she contemplated not facing him because she wasn't sure she wanted to right then but something compelled her to. She swallowed at the openness in his eyes. "No," was all she could muster to say.

Tilting his head, he gazed up at her, scrunching his nose. "What's wrong, Quinn?"

Biting down on the inside of her cheek, she debated on telling him what she had been feeling, about Finn and about glee, but swallowed it all back instead. "Everything is great," she lied, finding the strength to push the door open. Without turning her head, she said, "Bye Artie," leaving him behind, but wanting to run back inside and make him her confidant. She had just decided that's what she would do when a hand grabbed the inside of her elbow and yanked her to a stop.

"Fabray."

Rolling her eyes at the sound of his voice, she jerked her arm away from him, glaring. "What do you want, Puck?"

Twisting his mouth, it appeared as if he was about to retort with some smart aleck remark but at the last minute thought better of it. "You okay?"

There was no internal conflict over whether or not she should talk to Puck about her Finn problem. Only a resounding no. "I'm just feeling fat," she told him, crossing her arms over her chest.

Making a sound in disbelief, Puck allowed his eyes to rove over her body. "You? Fat? Never." Giving her the look that she had seen him give countless girls, including Santana and Brittany, he went on to say, "Want to come over to my place and just…hang?"

Her better judgment warned against it but she found herself agreeing, accompanying him to his home by way of truck, clutching her hands in her lap and ignoring the smell of stale sweat and musky aftershave that permeated the cab. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against the head rest, willing herself to believe that this was a good idea.

And she almost did.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: Part two, already up! I just couldn't wait to post it, lol. Please read and review! :)_

_**Sidelines, part two**_

After twelve hours of labor, and scant time at all with her newborn, who wasn't really hers but someone else's, Quinn lay in her hospital bed, exhausted and aching from more than just physical pain. Her heart felt like a cold frost had settled upon it though hot tears were silently running down her cheeks. She hated to cry but she allowed herself to. And it didn't matter because she doubted anyone would actually be visiting her. She hadn't seen her parents in months and Puck had bailed right after their little girl had been given to her new adopted parents. Mr. Schuester had stayed briefly but, due to some issues with his possibly future ex wife, had also left.

Quinn had never felt so alone.

Closing her eyes, she rested her head on the hospital pillow, reliving the moment she had first seen her daughter. The image brought a fresh batch of tears to her eyes but before they could seep from her eyes, a throat cleared and her eyelids fluttered open.

At the door, in his wheelchair, half smile on his face, sat Artie, a bouquet of flowers on his lap. "Hey," he said softly, wheeling himself in her direction. Gently, he placed the flowers on her side table, cleared his throat again then looked anywhere but at her.

"Thank you," she told him, her voice quiet in the room. "They're beautiful."

Finally, his eyes landed on hers, a sadness there that felt less like pity and more like the sympathy of a friend. "Beautiful flowers for a beautiful girl."

The corners of her mouth lifted upward but she was sure it appeared as more of a grimace than anything else. "It's nice of you to say that, Artie, though it's not true, not right now anyway."

A look of disbelief entered Artie's eyes. "Are you serious, Quinn? You've always been beautiful, ever since the first time I saw you in the cafeteria and was too afraid to sit by you…"

Actually smiling, and almost laughing, Quinn asked, "You mean, that's why it took you all week to sit by me? You were afraid?" He nodded once, the barest hint of a grin playing across his mouth. Part of her wanted to debate him about his compliment, considering she had just been through one of the hardest ordeals of her life and knew that there was no possible way anyone could consider her beautiful then, but decided against it. He was, after all, trying to make her feel better. And he was there, which meant more to her than anything else. "That was one of the worst weeks. I was really glad when you did sit by me. And shared your pudding cup with me."

"I know," he told her simply. "So…are you tired?

Tired was an understatement. "Yes."

In a not quite whisper, he said, "Then go to sleep."

A feeling of vulnerability washed over her as she thought of waking up to an empty room. "Will you stay?" she questioned. "Until I fall asleep?"

She was uncertain of his internal reaction as the expression on his face revealed not much. "Sure," was his only response.

It didn't take long for her to waft into a state of fitful sleep, dream free, with Artie's warm presence beside her, almost lulling her.

When she awoke, hours later, Artie was gone but, beside the bouquet of flowers he had brought, was a pudding cup.

Junior year definitely could've been Quinn's year to get it all back. Head Cheerio, President of the Chastity club, Finn Hudson…yet, for some unknown reason, none of that seemed appealing to her. Not even getting back together with a single Finn, who had become somewhat of a friend despite the wrongs she had done him in the previous year. As she walked down one of McKinley High's hallways, she smiled as no one moved to make way for her. It was something she had gotten used to and almost, in a way, welcomed. She was slightly surprised when she spied Artie by her locker, beaming grin in place. The two of them had been talking, mostly through IM's and sometimes in group hang outs, with the other members of the glee club, which Quinn guessed made her a gleek, but him showing up at her locker was not expected.

"Hey, Artie."

"Hey, Quinn."

An awkward silence stretched between them for what felt like forever before Artie, first pushing up the glasses on the bridge of his nose, said, "I'm looking forward to glee this year."

Biting back a giggle, Quinn agreed with him, "Yeah, me too. Glee is…well, glee's meant a lot to me."

"That's good," Artie began, opening his mouth to say more but, before he could, some of the other members of glee were there, Brittany and Tina glaring at each over Artie's head as he sat, oblivious, to the feelings his ex and the flexible cheerleader had for him. "Later," he mouthed, as the bell rang and Tina grabbed the handles on the back of his chair, one second before Brittany could, pushing him away.

Shrugging, Quinn removed her books from her locker, wondering what Artie had been about to say.

The thought that had been on the tip of Artie's tongue but had been left unspoken came up a couple of weeks later, as Quinn sat by herself in the music room after everyone left. She often found herself alone there, sometimes up to an hour after the others had gone home. It was in the music room that she felt most at home, even more so than at her actual home, where dinners were often punctuated by uncomfortable silences. Neither one of her parents, in particular her dad, seemed to have been able to forget about the slight discrepancy of getting pregnant the year beforehand. Sometimes it was almost unbearable to live at home. It almost felt as if the was sitting on the sidelines while in her own house.

Sighing, Quinn flipped through the sheets of music Rachel had been handing out, rolling her eyes as she remembered how Rachel had insisted that these songs would be the perfect ones to help them place at sectional's.

"Rachel is probably the most intense person I know," his voice intoned sardonically, jarring her. She caught the sheets just before they slipped to the ground. "Sorry," he muttered, reaching forward to help steady the papers, his hand brushing her knee.

"It's okay." Restacking the papers, she turned her gaze to him. "And, yeah, Rachel can be pretty intense, borderline annoying but…she's not bad."

Both eyebrows raised at her assessment of Rachel's character. "I agree about the annoying and also…that she's not that bad. I, uh, stayed cause I wanted to ask you something." Pursing her lips, Quinn nodded once, indicating that he should go on. "Last year, I pulled your name out of that hat and we were supposed to sing a ballad together but we never got the chance and I was thinking that maybe this year we could. Well, not a ballad so much as a duet. You know, you and me sing a -" He paused and his cheeks turned a light shade of pink. "I'm rambling. What I want to ask is if you might sing a duet with me?"

Biting her bottom lip, Quinn stared at him for a minute, not considering whether she should say yes but thinking about how cute he was. "I'd like that, Artie. Do you have any ideas?"

"I have a few," he responded, almost glowing as he pulled an iPod from his pocket.

As she placed one of his ear buds in an ear, head at a slight angle, she studied his profile as he scrolled through the songs on the portable device. Could he possibly like her, even after how she had abandoned him all those years ago and practically ignored him in the years following? It was a bit disconcerting, for whatever reason, but she chose not to dwell on it, rather pushing it to the back of her mind. Instead, she'd focus on the songs and regaining a friend.

After a several minutes, they decided on "I Got You Babe" by Sonny and Cher, a clichéd classic that they both decided would be fun but the choice almost made her wonder if her previous assumptions about him liking her hadn't been so off. He had, after all, suggested the song.

Ever since she had been ten, Quinn had managed to be the recipient of several boy's admiration on Valentine's Day. Even when she had been dating Finn, there had been a line of boys with conversation hearts in one hand and carnations in the other, asking her if she would be theirs. The previous year, she had been with Puck and pregnant, therefore receiving nothing from anyone, not even her boyfriend. This year she expected much of the same, to sit the day out on the sidelines.

Sighing, she watched as Rachel looked between Puck and Finn, the two boys glaring at one another, remembering when she had been the third in that triangle but grateful that she was no longer. Chewing on her bottom lip, Quinn turned her gaze to the book she had been assigned to read for English, ignoring everyone else for the time being.

However, it didn't seem that was allowed for a tap on her hand interrupted her perusing of the novel. Glancing up, her frustration was washed away as she looked into Artie's blue green eyes. "Oh. Hey, Artie."

"Hey, Quinn," he responding, hands clasped tightly in his lap. "Have a…date for Valentine's day?"

Something akin to hope bubbled in her chest. Swallowing, she shook her head no. "This is the first year in a long time without one."

She noticed that his grip on his own hands had become so tight that his knuckles were turning white. "There's something about that that's just not right." Bowing his head, he examined his ever whitening knuckles. "Um…"

Leaning forward a little, Quinn strained to hear whatever he was about to say, as his voice had dropped an octave or two. "Yes, Artie?"

His mouth formed a perfect 'o' but no words exited for a moment. Just as it seemed they were about to, Tina flounced over, squinted at Quinn without acknowledging her, then said to Artie, "Can you come over and judge mine and Britt's dance moves? We want to know who you think is better."

Appearing torn, Artie lifted his eyes to Quinn's, something flickering in their depths. "I-"

"Go judge their dance competition," Quinn encouraged him warmly, her heart sinking within her, which made her wonder if she liked him. As she watched him wheel away, his eyes touching hers one last time, she couldn't help but recall the many times he had been there for her over the years, despite how she had thrown their friendship away to be one of the cool kids. And look where that had gotten her. None of those cool kids even talked to her anymore, except for those that were in glee with her and even then, barely. Sighing, she tucked a hair behind one ear, pushing all thoughts of Artie and Valentine's Day out of her head. She had other things, like school work, to consider.

Thirty minutes later, Quinn approached her locker and came to a halt when she spotted a single red rose taped to it, with a note.

Scrawled on the white slip of paper were the words, _You should always be someone's valentine._

There was no signature but she knew who the rose was from. Tucking it carefully into her book bag, she smiled then slowly walked out of the school building.

Just in time for regional's, Quinn felt a cold coming on. Rachel, upon finding out, lectured her for half an hour (well, it felt like half an hour but was, in actuality, five minutes) before Artie intervened, his sarcastic wit puzzling Rachel and ending the girls tirade. Quinn had smiled gratefully at him, then had assured Rachel she would be fine for regional's.

But she wasn't fine. The cold had just gotten worse but, somehow, Quinn managed to perform with the others on stage though, afterwards, she told Mr. Schuester she just couldn't sit through the rest of the performances. Santana and Brittany accompanied her to the room of the hotel they were staying at, then left shortly thereafter, to go find a party somewhere, Quinn guessed. Mr. Schuester probably should've sent Ms. Pilsbury with them. Since it wasn't her problem, Quinn shrugged and turned on the television set, flipping through the channels, growing frustrated when she couldn't find one thing she wanted to watch.

Just when she had decided that The Food Network was probably the best option, a knock came at the door. Startled, she dropped the remote. Frowning, she debated on whether or not to answer it when she heard his voice call out, "Quinn, it's me."

Crossing the room, she unlocked the door and found herself looking down at Artie. "Artie," she said. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh," he replied, nervously pushing his glasses up his nose. "I had a feeling that Brittany and Santana would ditch you and I didn't like the thought of you alone…"

Grinning, she opened the door wider, to let him in. "I appreciate that. I was just about to watch something on The Food Network."

As he rolled himself in, Artie frowned. "What up with that?" Shaking his head, he grabbed the remote off the bed and began his own survey of the stations. "Wow, there's really not much up on, is there?"

"Not really." Sitting in her original position on the bed once more, she patted the spot beside her. "Join me?"

Gulping, Artie tossed the remote beside her then made his way to the side of the bed. She watched as he grabbed hold of the bed frame, pulling himself out of his chair and onto the bed. When he noticed her eyes on him, he blushed a little before straightening himself out. "I, uh, sucks that you're sick."

Nodding absent mindedly, she scooted closer to him. "Artie, I…I'm sorry."

Furrowing his brow, he twisted his head to look at her. "Sorry? What are you sorry about?"

Running her hand along the comforter, she said, softly, "Sorry for…all those years ago. We were friends and I just…" She brought her shoulders up then let them drop down.

"Hey," he responded, his voice hard to hear above the muted noise coming from the television. "That was a long time ago. It doesn't matter now."

"If you say so," she said, injecting a bit of a teasing tone into her words.

"I do," he whispered, the serious inflection in his voice contrasting with her playful one.

Staring into his eyes, she felt her breath catch in the back of her throat. "Okay…" Biting down hard on her lip, she struggled to think of something to say then, before she could stop herself, blurted out, "Do you ever think about that kiss?"

Blinking several times, he at last nodded. "Well, it was my first, so yeah."

"Mine too." It occurred to her, as she lay there, eyes locked with his, that Artie was sort of…hot. In a sort of nerdy kind of way, like Clark Kent or Peter Parker. "I wonder what it would be like if we kissed now?"

Apparently, he wasn't expecting that. His mouth fell open, then closed, several times before he squeaked, "Wh-what?"

Smiling, she raised her head so that her lips came within centimeters of his. "If we kissed now," she repeated. "What would it be like?"

He didn't answer with words. Instead, he closed the small space between them, pressing his lips to hers, first gently, then growing in intensity. As if in slow motion, she brought one hand up to tangle in his hair, while the fingers of the other grazed over the collar of his shirt. Just as slowly, one of his hands slid across the material of the shirt that covered her stomach, coming to lightly rest on her hip. The other touched her face, the pad of his thumb making small circles on her cheekbone. Several minutes must've passed but Quinn was no longer aware of time.

She wasn't sure who broke the kiss, perhaps it was mutual because they both needed to breathe, but they came apart eventually, smiles on their faces.

"Whoa," breathed Artie, lowering his face to brush his forehead against hers. "That was…whoa."

"Mmhmm." There was more she wanted to say but for some reason, all she said was, "You're going to get sick."

Twisting his mouth into a grin, he told her, "I think it was worth it."

Her grin matching his, she settled into his arms, feeling comfortable there but unsure of the meaning behind what had happened. Part of her felt they should discuss it but the other part of her, the side she chose to listen to, thought the best thing to do was just enjoy the moment and figure everything else out later.

Monday morning, Quinn walked into McKinley High, a small smile on her face for more than one reason. New Directions had placed first in regional's, which meant they were on their way to the next level. And there was, of course, the unforgettable kiss, which neither Artie nor Quinn had brought up since it had happened three days beforehand. Not that they had really had the chance to. That day, though, Quinn fully intended to approach him and bring up what had transpired between them. She also had a question she wanted to ask him, which, to her, seemed the most important question that anyone could ask.

As soon as the bell for the last class rang, she hurried the long hallways to Artie's locker, hoping to catch him before glee started. She rounded the final corner then froze when she saw Brittany's tall form, bent at the waist, lips against Artie's. It was unexpected and made her feel awful but Quinn held herself high and strode forward, passing by them. In that time, the other two had separated and, right as Quinn walked by, she heart Artie start to sputter.

'Good,' she thought, darkly. 'He feels bad. He should.'

"Quinn!"

Jutting her chin out, she continued, her pace not lessening, as he cried out her name.

"Quinn!"

It gave her some sort of satisfaction that he sounded as if he had gotten the cold she had had.

"Quinn!"

This time, he was much closer and his hand shot out, two fingers encircling her wrist.

"Quinn. Stop."

She bristled at the way he almost commanded her but followed his instructions, pivoting on one heel to face him, eyebrow raised. "What?"

"I know what that looked like," he said, jerking his thumb in the direction of his locker.

"You mean," she questioned, scrunching her brow in mock confusion. "You and Brittany kissing?"

Blowing some air out of his cheeks, Artie shook his head. "I don't even know how this happened, Quinn. Tina and Britt, fighting over me. And then you…that kiss… I'm Artie Abrams. I've never had girl problems." Opening her mouth, Quinn felt a diatribe coming on, at being labeled one of his many girls, but he rushed ahead. "I don't mean to say I have any now, just that… What I mean is, there is no problem. Because there's only one girl that I like. And that, that kiss with Brittany…well, she kissed me! I didn't want her to. All weekend I've been waiting to talk to you about what happened and that was really bad timing, that, there, but I didn't feel anything not like when I-"

Shushing him by placing a finger over his lips, Quinn smirked at him. "I think I get it, Artie. That was cute, though."

Eyes on her finger, still over his lips, making him appear slightly cross eyed, Artie muttered, "Thanks."

"I felt something when we kissed too. And…I was going to ask you if you wanted to go to the prom with me." Standing erect, she awaited his answer, hiding away the apprehension she felt about what he might say.

For a moment, his face was blank but then he beamed up at her, an almost teasing glint in his eyes. "And…are you going to ask me?"

Her mouth fell open then quirked into a half smile, a chortle of a laugh coming out at the same time. "Artie, will you go to prom with me?"

The merriment on his face faded as he gazed down at his legs. "I can't dance."

It was difficult not to roll her eyes at him but the statement was absurd (though once she would've believed it to be true as well). "You dance in glee all the time. So just say yes already."

Raising his eyes again, Artie flashed his teeth at her. "Jeez, you're demanding. That's…hot."

The unexpectedness of the compliment caused her to laugh. "Um, thanks. You still haven't said yes, by the way."

Wheeling himself forward, and grinning all the while, he took hold of her hand, running his fingers over her knuckles. "Yes, Quinn Fabray, I would love to go to the dance with you. I'd go even if all we did was sit on the sidelines."

"Artie, we have always been on the sidelines together, even when I didn't want it to be true."

Artie cocked his head, thinking about what she said, then nodded. "Ever since that first pudding cup."

"Yes," she said softly. "Ever since then."

Still grinning, almost literally from ear to ear, Artie patted his lap. "Want a ride to glee?"

"How could I say no to that?" She took a seat on his lap and slid her arms over his shoulders, clasping her hands at the back of his neck. Then, on impulse, she dropped a kiss against his lips, which he almost immediately reciprocated.

"So, I hope you don't expect anything too fancy for prom. I'm sort of a plain guy," he told her as he slowly wheeled to glee. "Expect McDonald's for dinner and I don't do corsages."

An almost giggle escaped. "That's fine but I'm ordering the most expensive value meal on the menu!"

"I wouldn't want my prom date to get a cheap value meal!"

Smiling, she rested her head against his. "I do expect to have a good time though."

"That," he said, winking. "can be arranged."

"I'm sure it can," she murmured.

"You should wear red," he whispered, his breath hot against her cheek.

"Maybe. You like me in red?"

Stopping in front of the door that would lead them into glee, he sort of smirked at her. "I like you in every color. But…" He trailed off, the smirk dropping away for a second. "You were wearing red that first day I sat next to you."

Tears filmed over her eyes. "You…remember what I was wearing?"

Smiling up at her, he nodded. "How could I forget anything about the day I met you?"

Fighting the emotions growing within her, she attempted to smile at him, aware that it came out crooked. "You were wearing a black sweater vest…" Swallowing, she brushed an imaginary piece of lint off her top. "I couldn't forget that day either."

Grinning, he gestured towards the door. "Must've been a memorable day."

Turning the handle, she looked back at him. "The most memorable."

Inside the room, everything was like normal, except Brittany was wearing an exceptional frown, which Quinn guessed had to with what had happened between her and Artie. Quinn selected a seat close to the door and Artie wheeled himself beside her. It occurred to her, as she sat there, that the two of them were on the edge of the room, slightly set apart from everyone else. Without thinking about it, she reached out and laced her fingers with his.

As always, on the sidelines, together.

_End._


End file.
